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I sighed, the truth of his words weighing heavily. It would be so easy to push the past out of my mind . . . and then it could repeat itself. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holt
“Can you cook?”A hint of panic barreled through the phone. “Or should I pick something up?”
“I can take care of it.” I tossed my empty lunch carton in the trash.
Baker never called me during the day. This was her way of checking on me. And she was freaking out about my father coming over for dinner. Maybe more than I was.
“No. You’ll be running late enough as it is.”
A semblance of a smile formed. She could heat something up like a champ, but a meal from scratch? The woman burned every piece of toast she tried to fix.
“My brother wants to come.”
“Do you want him to?”
I pushed a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. I’ll plan for five of us.”
“Easy. Don’t stress.”
“I screw up microwave dinners,” she lamented. “And I won’t have time to go by Trish’s.”
“Just make sure you have plenty of that wine you like. Dad will need it.” I pushed out of my seat. “Why don’t you ask Muriella for some ideas. She might know a good restaurant nearby to order from.”
“You’re a genius.” Her tone was miles lighter than it had been only seconds ago.
“I want to hear that again later. In person.”
“Go away,” she huffed and hung up the phone.
I laughed. She had this way of distracting me even when she didn’t mean to. I was already eager for six thirty despite dreading the conversation with my father. Baker’s support was . . . eye-opening. I knew she’d suffered in some way, she’d been at Paths, but had someone she loved died too? She’d come after me, refusing to let me ignore my mistake entirely. And she’d held me. That had been incredible.
“Dixon. I don’t pay you to stand around,” Ed hollered over “Bring It On Home To Me” by Sam Cooke.
He was a good guy, had given me a chance, but I was ready to be my own boss. To put down roots.
I frowned. Was that what I wanted? Half the time I felt torn between New York and Wyoming. Some days I didn’t think I could stay here. But I couldn’t go back to the park, even though I loved it there.
I’d never wanted Baker to find those things in my bag. I’d almost forgotten the article and picture were there. Almost. And I’d been so close to unloading it all on her. But I couldn’t stand to see her disappointment. I couldn’t stand for the light in her eyes to dim when she looked at me.
I popped the hood to the Camry, and my thoughts shifted to my dad. Tonight wouldn’t be easy on him. He’d need to know all of his family supported him.
I fired off a text to my brother to be at the apartment by seven. Hell, I’d need him too.
Phone halfway back in my pocket, I pulled it back out. There was one more text I needed to send. I didn’t wait for a response to that one.
Conversation haltedthe second I walked through the door.
“It would have been less obvious you were talking about me if you’d just kept it up.” I hung my leather jacket in the closet and strolled over to the kitchen.
Baker and my dad had guilty looks on their faces. Neither of them denied my accusation.
“At least tell me it was all good.”
